


Stupid

by missmishka



Series: Cut Her Some Slack [1]
Category: Land of the Dead (2005)
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, POV Outsider, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/pseuds/missmishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>When they look at her, it’s passing; fleeting; as if simply admiring scenery on a trip.  When they look at each other, though, as they’re doing now; it’s coming home.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format had done. Not for any profit.
> 
> No beta and likely riddled with past/present tense errors. Feel free to point out any glaring issues for correction.

It takes Slack longer to get it than she likes to admit, even to herself.  She blames Riley, though, for being so charming and flirtatious. 

He looks.  She’s seen him look at her and knows that he likes what he sees.

Charlie has looked, too, in the locker room at the jail and a few times since; quick, furtive glances at her curves that make her grin and thrust her chest out a little further or swing her hips a little slower.  He blushes and stammers like a schoolboy at any peek of flesh and the admiration boosts her ego every time.

They both have looked and admired and fed her ego with their attention, so she can’t be blamed for not realizing it immediately.

Once they settle in Canada, Slack thinks Riley will make his move to progress things between them beyond looks and flirting words. 

Two weeks, in though, she realizes it wouldn’t happen. Ever.

That’s the day that Charlie went out hunting by himself, because he liked it better that way.  The area’s been pretty quiet, seemed pretty safe and it was broad daylight so Riley let the other man go off alone while everyone else occupied themselves in fixing up the house they’d chosen for their current residence. 

The daylight hours passed, though; breakfast and lunch were eaten without any sign of the man coming back with some kill that would bolster their dinner menu. 

The later it got, the tenser Riley got.  His eyes kept a constant scan of the forest’s edge; the color growing icy and hard as his sweeping gaze failed to catch sight of Charlie. 

Pretty Boy and Pillsbury took on dinner duty with no apparent concern for the missing man or their leader’s distraction.  Slack, though, had nothing better to do than observe.

“Wanna go look for him?” she asks, settling beside Riley at the campfire that had been built.

“Too late now,” Riley answers, eyes never stopping their search to even give her an acknowledging glance.  “We can’t all be out there in the dark without knowing what might be in these woods.”

A muscle tics in his jaw after he says his piece and he flicks a glare toward the fading sun.

“He’ll be back,” his voice drops as he seems to be speaking more to himself than to her.  “He’ll be back.”

Night falls, though, without Charlie returning.  Slack goes inside to eat with the others, but Riley stays in the yard; eyes fixed upon the trees.  She fixes him a plate and he accepts it with a brief nod of thanks when she thrusts it toward him while sitting down once more beside him.  He eats it quickly and quietly; not letting the meal or her presence distract him from his vigil. 

Her eyes turn to the woods as his tension spreads to her.  She doesn’t try to speak; everything about him discourages conversation, but he seems willing to allow her to be there.  The others trickle out of the house; mostly just to stand briefly around the campfire as they do their own visual scan of the darkness beyond the glowing fire. 

“No sign of him out back, either.”

That muscle tics again in Riley’s cheek as Anchor delivers the report somberly while hunkering down to warm his hands at the fire.  He doesn’t look at Riley.  None of them; the original crew of the Dead Reckoning and those that knew Charlie and Riley best, all seem to be avoiding eye contact with their leader.  Their contact is brief and fleeting with the man; any interaction hesitant and awkward.  They seem to be walking on eggshells and Slack doesn’t understand why.

Charlie’s a sweetheart, she knows, and she’ll be as sad as any of them if something has happened to him, but she doesn’t get why they’re all treating Riley so gently.  She knows that they’re friends, closer than anyone else in the group, but Riley’s own family has been killed in this chaos. He holds to some inner standard of the really bad things only happening to those that died and him not being effected by those deaths so long as he survived. She doesn’t imagine losing Charlie will be any different.

Cold moves in with the night, but Riley doesn’t leave his post.  No one seems inclined to make him, so Slack bites back her own words to encourage him to retire for the night. 

She’s about to give up on herself when Pillsbury suddenly says, “There.”

Riley’s head turns sharply in the direction that the other man is pointing.  She rises to her feet as Riley does and turns her gaze to the dark figure staggering from the woods.  The sluggish pace of the figure does not bode well.

The others slowly gather at the fire to watch the progress of the figure.  Slack looks at each member of the group in turn and sees the way that they’re deferring to Riley for a response; no one speaking or moving to action until he does _something._

The figure takes the obvious shape of a person as it draws nearer to the fire’s lure and Riley’s jaw locks tightly as he draws his gun and loads a round into the chamber.  A ripple seems to go through the gathering at the unusually loud sound the weapon makes as it cocks to fire and all of them, except for Slack, take a quiet step back from Riley.

She looks to Pretty Boy for some clue and finds the other woman oddly tense and watchful as she looks from the approaching figure to their leader then back again.  Slack turns her attention back to the figure, knowing as well as they all did that it could only be Charlie, finally returning from his hunt.  The only thing that they didn’t know was whether he was coming back alive.  Given the pace of his progress and the lateness of his return, Slack reaches for her own gun with an unsteady hand.

Riley flicks her a glance when she cocks the Beretta and the look freezes her. 

“I’ll handle it,” he says, the words gritted out through his teeth.

She slowly moves the decocking lever and puts the safety on before tucking the weapon back in her waistband at his words.  He takes his freezing gaze off her only after the gun is safely away. She takes a step back to stand with the others as his attention returns to Charlie.

They can see now that it is him from the lightness of his hair and skin and his familiar old Army jacket.  Riley moves slowly around the fire as the other man finally gets close enough that they can see his face.  Slack finds herself taking another step backward and resisting the urge to close her eyes as Riley raises his gun to fire.

“Geesh, did I miss curfew or something?”

Charlie stops his limp forward as he catches sight of the gun aimed at him.  Slack sees him leaning heavily on a stick that he has propped under his left arm as he shrugs off the rope slung over his right shoulder. 

“Where have you been?” Riley practically growls the words as the gun shakes visibly in his hand.

“It’s ok,” Charlie says calmly, limping forward until he can put his hand on the barrel of the gun to aim it downward.  “I’m ok.”

The others drift away at that, going back inside with a palpable relief.  Pillsbury moves to pick up the discarded rope and Slack watches him drag a deer carcass to the porch to be dealt with later.  Charlie’s hunt had apparently been successful after all.

“What happened?” Riley asks as he safeties the gun and puts it away.

“Stupid,” Charlie shakes and lowers his head.  “Tripped.”

“Broken?” Riley frowns and drops to a knee to gently run his hands over the leg that the other man is favoring.

Slack ventures closer to them, but they pay no attention to her movement.

Charlie just shakes his head, putting a hand on Riley’s shoulder for balance as the leader lifts the injured leg.  A hiss escapes him and his knuckles whiten when Riley bumps his boot and jostles his ankle.  Riley looks up at the noise with obvious concern.

“Ankle?”

“Twisted,” Charlie winces as Riley carefully sets the foot back down.  “Stupid.”

“Hey,” Riley pushes to his feet and takes hold of Charlie’s chin.  “What have I said about that word?”

“It’s stupid,” Charlie replies with a grin.

“But…,” Riley prompts with a playful tenderness that makes Slack blink in stunned realization.

“I’m not,” Charlie concludes.

They look at one another then and she gets it. 

When they look at her, it’s passing; fleeting; as if simply admiring scenery on a trip.  When they look at each other, though, as they’re doing now; it’s coming home.  It’s love and joy and comfort and relief; a peace and calm that they’re blessed to find together in what this world has become. 

Riley’s head tips forward to rest his forehead briefly to Charlie’s and he moves a hand to card through the other man’s hair. 

“Lost my hat,” Charlie mumbles with discontent even as he leans contentedly against Riley’s chest.

“’s okay,” Riley assures as he briefly hugs the other man close.  “Let’s get you fixed up.”

He shifts to dislodge the stick and slide his shoulder under Charlie’s arm to use himself as a crutch for the other man. 

As the pair turns toward the house, Slack watches Riley whisper something in Charlie’s ear and the man huffs out a laugh at whatever is said.  They lean on one another as the move inside; each familiar with the weight of the other and bearing it with ease.  There is an intimacy to their closeness; to the natural way that Riley’s step slows to match Charlie’s injured gait; that goes beyond the mere friendship that she had thought them to have. 

They are a pair; in any and every way two people can bind themselves together outside a family tie.  If the worst had happened to Charlie, Riley would have felt it the same as if it had happened to himself and vice versa.  

Slack is the one that has been stupid and she laughs at herself as she follows them into the house.

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this pairing forever since seeing the movie and finally got this out. Just dipping a toe in the waters to get a feel for the fandom.


End file.
